Addicted
by cosmogirl7481
Summary: Bella has a secret.  But how long can she really keep it in the closet?  A sexy little story with humor and drama.  ExB, AH, and OOC.  Rated M dirty language and content of a sexual nature.
1. Chapter 1

**Addict: to abandon (oneself) to something compulsively or obsessively.**

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Here's the thing. I'm a whore. And not in the "my-girlfriends-call-me-a-whore" kind of way. I'm an actual whore. Well, I don't have sex for money, if that's what you're thinking. So, I suppose that means I'm not an _actual_ whore. I guess that makes me a slut. Or "loose as a goose," as my Grandma Swan used to say.

But really…I'm just arguing minor points about a very major thing.

My name is Bella Swan and I'm addicted to sex.

Specifically, I'm addicted to sex with Edward Masen.

And it has to stop.

_Goddamn._

He just walked by my office with his sex hair and sex fingers and sex smirk. Oh, yes…he definitely has a sex smirk. I know you know what I'm talking about. Oh…and I forgot about his sex swagger because I'm too busy pretending to be important. Or remotely productive.

What was I saying?

Oh right.

Sex.

Edward Masen.

Sex with Edward Masen.

God, everything about him oozes sex. And it oozes good sex. You know…the kind of sex that makes your toes curl and your muscles clench. All your muscles. Even the ones on the inside that no one has been able to make clench before. No one. Not even the little rubber, spinning, battery operated someone you keep in your nightstand. Or (if you're like me) hidden under your mattress because you're secretly afraid that someone might find it. Even though you live alone and no one has been in your bedroom in months.

Anyway, as I was saying…he definitely walked by on purpose. And I know where he's going. And _he_ knows _I_ know where he's going. And even more importantly…or sadly…he knows I'm going to follow.

_Fuck._

I could just not follow. You know…I could totally sit here at my desk and actually work. And by work, I mean tool around online. And he could stand there all alone, waiting on me until he realizes that I am completely committed to my career and engaged with those who report to me. That would be the smart thing. That would definitely be the right thing. After all, I have always prided myself on being a moral person with unquestioning integrity.

Until him.

Until that first moment…

I could stay here and remember that moment, since every single second of it is burned into my brain with striking and vivid clarity. I could…but I won't. Not when he's waiting. And especially not when I know he's waiting for me.

So, I rise from my chair, smoothing out the black woven skirt that covers my thighs to just above my knees. And I follow him.

Just like he knew I fucking would.

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**A/N**

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**Please leave me some.**

**This will update throughout the day, and complete by tonight. **

**I will save all my love and thanks until the end. **

**See you all at 7:55 am EST. **


	2. Chapter 2

"What took you so long?"

His voice is thick and tight. Irritated. And I have to remind myself that the sound – _that sound_ – shouldn't please me as much as it does. Like, the idea that he is just as affected by this shouldn't make me happy. Shouldn't turn me on.

But it does.

And I am.

"Fuck you," I hiss. "There are other things more important than this."

More important than you.

Only I know that's not true. I know that from the moment I saw him. From the moment we first did…whatever it is that we're doing…he was like the only thing in the entire goddamn world. Him and what he does to me. How he makes me feel.

His eyes darken. I can see it, even in the dark space that surrounds us. His mouth parts; my heart quickens. I wonder if he can feel it from where he's standing.

I want him to.

But I don't.

He moves slowly across the space. One…two…three steps. That's all it takes. Three fucking steps, and he's so close I can feel him. His breath, his suit…the heat from his skin under his suit.

Goddamn.

His hands press against the door behind me. Trapping me. And I know that I'm standing here willingly captive.

What the fuck is this?

Why do I feel this way?

Why do I fucking love it?

He reaches behind my head, pulling the clip from my hair. I can smell the scent of my shampoo as it falls over my shoulders. Coconut and citrus. I love it – the way it smells. But I love the way he smells even more.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" I ask. "Do you _want_ people to know what we're doing?"

He chuckles, before burying his face in my hair.

"What makes you think they don't?"

And my whole body goes rigid at his words. And I feel the shame cover me as I think about that being a possibility. Do people know what we're doing? Does he want them to?

"Do they?" My voice is small, nervous…terrified that it's true.

And then he licks my neck – his tongue wide and flat and wet. And suddenly, I don't care if they know. Fuck, I wouldn't even care if they watched at this point. Just as long as he keeps doing what he's doing.

"I like your hair down," he whispers, reaching behind me and locking the door. "And since I can't see it spread across my pillow," he continues, reaching up and grabbing it at the nape of my neck, "I'll have to settle for feeling it between my fingers."

And I whimper.

His words make me fucking whimper.

And somewhere in the corners of my clouded mind, it registers that his words make it sound like he wishes this was more. But fuck that. I know they're just words. And they're nothing more than a tool he uses to make me wet. To make me want him so much that I've allowed myself to do this.

To want this.

To fucking need this.

"And no," he continues, reaching his free hand down to push up my skirt. "No one but me knows what we do."

His finger hooks inside my panties, and he groans softly in my ear as he begins to stroke me, slipping between my lips.

"You promise?" I ask.

He pushes inside, fucking me slowly with his finger.

"No one knows how wet I make you," he breathes, adding another finger and pushing in deeper. "No one knows how much I love the little sounds you make when I make you come. And no one, Bella…no one but me knows about our dirty little secret."

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**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**See you at 8:50 am EST**


	3. Chapter 3

He lets me leave the closet first. And with as much dignity as I can gather without panties, I walk back to my office holding a ream of paper and a sad little box of staples. Praying no one notices me. Of course, if they do, that's what the props are for. Thank god, they don't.

Once inside, I close the door to my office. I quickly go to my desk and pull out the compact I have in the top drawer. My hair is a mess and my face is flushed. Yeah, that's because he made me come three times.

Three fucking times.

Who does that?

Who is capable of doing that?

Although, I think the better question is: Who lets someone do that? In a closet? In the middle of the work day?

Fuck.

The phone rings from an inside line, and I pick it up.

"This is Bella."

"Bella," my boss, Carlisle's voice comes across the line. "Meet me in my office in ten minutes."

He sounds serious. Or does he sound pissed? I can't tell. But I'm pretty sure that neither is a good thing. He could be pissed. Or he could seriously be considering firing me for fucking a colleague in the supply closet. But he can't know that…can he?

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…fuck!_

No.

I was stealth.

I had paper and staples as my cover.

"Absolutely, sir," I tell him, before hanging up the phone.

I silently give myself a pep talk. And by pep talk, I mean I tell myself to get my shit together. This can't be anything more than a meeting. With my boss. I have meetings with my boss all the time.

Yeah, but I usually have them when I'm wearing panties.

I also silently remind myself to bring in a spare pair of panties to keep in my desk for the next time this happens.

No.

Wait.

This cannot happen again.

I cannot continue to fuck Edward Masen in the supply closet at work. Today was the last time. Never again. I don't care if he made me come three times. I don't care if he could make me come ten times. This has to end. It has to. I am better than this. My career is too important to me. I am good at my job, and from this point forward, my job is my first priority.

Not his hands and the way they touch me.

Not his voice and the way it sounds in my ear as he whispers my name…or grunts quietly when I kiss his neck.

And definitely not his cock. His fucking beautiful cock that is always so hard, with smooth skin that feels so good in my hand. And a perfect head that that is just so…_unf_. It's just so fucking suckable.

See? None of that matters. It's over and never happening again.

Feeling strength from my newfound resolve, I collect myself, straighten my hair one more time, and I get ready to head to the meeting. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach regarding what he wants to meet with me about, but I'm sure it's nothing. It's just residual energy form what happened in the closet with Edward.

Edward.

Shut the fuck up, Bella. You can't think about him anymore.

At all.

I'm certain that my resolution is firm by the time I get to Carlisle's office. I even took the long way to avoid passing by Edward's office. And I'm feeling rather smug when I knock on the door.

"Come in," he replies.

And as I push open the door, I see Carlisle's face. I can't tell if he looks pissed. Honestly, I don't know if I've ever seen him truly pissed. But he definitely looks thoughtful. Serious. Yes, I do believe that this meeting is serious business. And that suspicion is even further confirmed when I look to my right, and Edward is sitting in a chair in front of Carlisle's desk.

_Son of a...mother fuck._

I am so screwed.

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**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**See you at 9:45 am EST**


	4. Chapter 4

I'm standing here in the doorway. Frozen. Seriously, like a goddamn idiot. My face feels like it's on fire, and Carlisle is just staring at me. You know, waiting for me to come in and act like a normal human being. With actual verbal and people skills.

But then, Edward looks at me. And he smirks. He fucking smirks. Which strikes me as odd, to be honest. I mean, we've both been called into a "meeting." And if we're both here, the only explanation can be that Carlisle knows. He knows we've been fucking around on company time. Or well…he knows we've been _fucking_ on company time.

I guess I haven't been as quiet as I'd hoped.

Fuck my life.

"Bella, please," Carlisle says, "take a seat. I'm going to make this short."

Edward chuckles. It's quiet, but I hear it. And it pisses me off. Because when I look at him, he's smiling. What in the fuck he can find funny about this is beyond me. But there he sits. Smiling. Cocky mother fucker. He's probably thinking about the fact that nothing he does is short. Nothing about him is short at all. Everything is long…and fucking perfect.

I quickly take the seat next to Edward.

I notice that he has a note pad, and I didn't bring one. Kiss ass.

"Carlisle, do you mind if I borrow a pad and pen?" I ask, wincing. Hating that in my attempt to pull myself together enough to actually come to this meeting, I failed to come prepared. I am briefly assuaged by the fact that both us are probably about to get fired. But that is short lived, as I realize that I will have no income.

"Don't worry about it, Bella," he says flippantly. "Edward can take notes. He can share them with you if you need them."

"That's perfectly fine," Edward says smoothly. "I have no problem sharing anything with Bella."

His voice drips sex. And I wonder if I'm the only one who can hear it. Because right now, Carlisle seems completely unaffected by his words…and voice. Of course, maybe Edward's sex voice only works on members of the opposite sex. Or you know…gay men. Carlisle is definitely not gay. His wife is gorgeous. Really. She's like this pin-up girl. You know…only classy. And not hanging in some mechanic's shop in nineteen forty-two.

It doesn't escape me that Carlisle not only didn't notice, but he also doesn't appear to be upset. And if he knew about the fucking-on-company-time thing, he'd definitely be upset. I begin to breathe easier, and feel my pulse settle down to a normal rate.

Just as Carlisle is about to talk, his phone rings. His cell phone, not his work phone. Making apologies, he tells us it's his wife and that he needs to talk the call. He turns his back as he speaks to her, but I can hear the warmth in his voice. Feeling like a big, fat eavesdropper, I look down.

I can't help but notice Edward is writing something on the pad. I look up at him, and he smiles. It's almost sweet, playful. And then he looks back down at the pad. Following his eyes, I look at the pad. And there in relatively big, block letters are the words, "I CAN STILL TASTE YOUR PUSSY ON MY TONGUE."

I can't help the small gasp that escapes my lips, and I lift my eyes to meet his. And he is fucking smirking. His eyes are teasing, and I wonder if he can see the flush on my face. And even more than that, I wonder if I'm flushing from anger or arousal. It pisses me off that I know that it's both.

He looks down and writes something else. And even though I know I shouldn't – even though I know I should be furious for what he's already written on that piece of paper – I look. I can't help it.

"YOU'RE FUCKING DELICIOUS."

My eyes widen, and my whole body warms…tingles. I feel a rush of wetness between my legs, and I curse myself for letting him affect me this way. At work. In front of my boss. Looking over at him, I mouth the words, "Fuck you."

And without missing a beat, he mouths back, "Please."

And I am sitting here, suspended somewhere between pissed off and turned on. And that makes me even more furious. And I don't know who I'm angrier with – him or myself.

Carlisle pulls me from my thoughts.

"Sorry about that," he says sincerely. "I'll keep this short." He turns to look directly at me. "Bella I know that you've been spearheading the launch of the employee training and benefits website. And you've been doing a great job."

"Thank you, sir."

He nods, and then continues. "But I also think you're aware that if we want to actually launch this thing by the target date, you're going to need some help. And Edward," he says, looking at him, "you'll be helping her."

I'm dying.

I am dying in this chair right now.

"But this is Bella's project," he protests, but I can see the slight twitch of his lips, like he's trying not to smile.

"I don't want to hear it," Carlisle states firmly. "Now it's both of yours. This has to be a priority. So, until we are set and one hundred percent ready to launch, the two of you will be working together. And we need to be ready to launch by next month. Do either of you have any questions?"

"No, sir," we both say in unison.

"Bella, can you bring Edward up to speed on everything tomorrow?"

Forcing myself to smile, I say, "Of course, sir."

Great.

I might still have my job, but I'm totally and completely fucked.

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**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**See you at 10:40 am EST**


	5. Chapter 5

I'm storming down the hall, heading for my office, when I feel his hand grip my arm. I hate that I love the way it feels.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?" he asks.

"Oh, what?" I snap. "Suddenly, you're all about the talking?"

I look up at him because I have to. And now I wish that I hadn't. His cheeks are flushed, his mouth parted…lips wet. I want to kiss those lips. I want to lick them and suck them and feel his fucking tongue slipping inside my mouth and pressing against my own. Goddamn. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Oh you and I both know I'm very…vocal," he says lowly, and my knees get weak. He looks around like he's making sure no one's listening, and then he looks back down at me again. "And I know you love it when I talk. But I think we should do this in a more private place."

"You mean like the supply closet?" I ask.

I say it to piss him off, and I quite enjoy the way his eyes flash and darken at my words. But then I remember. He hasn't been the only one in there. I have always been a willing participant. And I know that that's really where this anger is coming from. I'm angry with myself. Not him. Well, maybe him a little. Or a lot. But only because he makes me want him so much.

"No," he snaps. "I mean your office."

He turns and walks away. And just like always…I fucking follow. Fucking helpless.

I walk in my office, and he's there, his back to me. I shut the door softly behind me, and take a deep and shaking breath. And finding my resolve, I speak.

"We can't keep doing this," I tell him. "It's wrong."

He turns to face me, his eyes softer than before, but there's still an edge about him. Maybe it's just him. His face…his body. The way that everything about him screams that he's the kind of man that can make you feel good. Like, he just knows how to make you feel good. I know that he can…that he does.

"It doesn't feel wrong."

That's all he says. Nothing more. And there's this quiet honesty in his voice. It almost reads like vulnerability. And for a moment, my entire body sways toward him like he's a magnet pulling me. But I know that there's nothing vulnerable about him. I know that he's the kind of man that knows what he wants. And he just…he just takes it.

And I fucking give it. Every single fucking time.

"What does it feel like?" I ask.

"It feels like you want it," he says, coming toward me. "It feels like you…want me."

I back up because I know if I let him get too close, I'll just give in. Like every other fucking time. He'll just ask…demand. And I'll come running. And I can't do that anymore.

"This is my job, Edward," I say. It doesn't sound very strong, and I hate that. "I can't…no, I won't. I won't keep doing this. We could get caught."

"That didn't seem to matter to you earlier," he says, walking even closer. I move back again, my back hitting the wall. And now, he's as close as he can be without touching me. Only I know that doesn't mean anything. I can still feel him – his breath, his fucking heat. "_Getting caught_ didn't seem to matter when my face was between your legs. When your lips were around my cock. When your hands were in my hair…pulling me closer…while I made you come."

I see his nostrils flair as he breathes in. I feel his sweet breath. It's warm as it brushes across my face. And I am so weak for him – so fucking desperate in this moment for him to touch me. To just take me again. And it's only been an hour since he was last inside me. But that's the fucking problem. I can't focus like this.

Pushing him out of the way, I walk over to my desk and stand behind it, needing the distance. I breathe for what feels like the first time in an hour.

"My job is important to me," I tell him. "What I do…it's important to me. And I'm sorry if you feel like I'm sending you mixed signals," I continue, laughing inside because all he fucking does is send me mixed signals that leave me questioning everything about him…and even about myself. "But if we're going to have to work together…and apparently we are…this…this can't continue to happen. It's over. No more."

I force my expression to remain rigid and unmovable. I know that if I show one ounce of weakness, he'll use it against me. And I can't. And as I watch him, I see his expression change. His eyes harden; his jaw is tight.

"So that's it, then?" he says, his voice emotionless.

"Yes," I nod. "It has to be this way."

"You can just...stop this," he says. "Like it doesn't matter. Like you won't miss the way I feel...the way _we_ feel."

"I have to," I tell him. It's the truth, and even as I say it, it fucking kills me. "I don't have a choice."

He looks at me. And for a moment, I think he's going to reach out to me. And the sad thing is I fucking want him to. A part of me wants him to tell me to shut the fuck up. A part of me wants him to just grab me and take me again. Over my desk. Against the goddamn wall. And I know I would let him.

But I can't.

"That's fine, Bella," he says quickly. "I'll see you in the morning."

And with that, he turns and walks out of my office, leaving the door open.

I should feel victorious.

I should feel happy that I stood my ground and got what I wanted.

But I don't.

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**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**See you at 11:35 am EST**


	6. Chapter 6

I spend the rest of my day gathering all the information I need to give to Edward tomorrow. Well, that and trying to figure out where everything in my life went to absolute shit. When I think about what I thought my life would be like at twenty-seven, this sure the fuck wasn't it.

Of course, I'm also still obsessing about the way we ended things. Or the way _I_ ended things. But I had to do it. I had to put a stop to all the craziness. There was no way anything good could have come from continuing.

Except apparently endless orgasms.

Yeah. Well, endless orgasms come at a price. And it's a price that's too far out of my reach. I need this job. My career is important to me. And I would die if anyone found out what I've been doing – what I let him do to me. In a closet. At fucking work.

Fuck.

How the hell did I let this happen?

It's not like he ever indicated that he wanted more. It's not like he ever once tried to pursue anything outside of work. He didn't. There were no invitations for coffee…dinner…anything. It's always been exactly what it was.

Fucking.

Great fucking.

Amazing fucking, but nothing more.

I know that my only recourse is to move forward with as much professionalism and dignity as possible. And I know it will be hard. I mean, I know what he looks like naked. Well, kind of naked. In the dark. I know what he fucking tastes like in my mouth…what he feels like inside of me. Full and tight and streched so completely that no other man will ever feel the same.

Shaking my head, I try to clear my mind. Those thoughts will certainly not help my plight.

I end up working into the early hours of the evening. Everyone left for the day a couple of hours ago. Pretty sure it's just me and the cleaning crew. I know – even if I'm unable to admit it – that I'm pulling longer hours because I feel guilty. I definitely owe the company some time. And working is better than going home and obsessing over Edward.

My phone rings and I pull it from my purse.

Alice.

"Hey," I say, putting her on speaker while I continue to put this file together for Edward. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" she asks.

"Still at work," I say. "It's been a long day."

I don't go into any further details. Alice knows about Edward. Well, she knows most of the story. There are certain details I can't even tell my best friend. And honestly, there were parts of my time with Edward that just seemed too private and personal. Like, there were things that were only for just him and me. No one else needed to know.

"I ended it with him," I tell her. "It's over."

"I've heard that before," she laughs.

"Well, this time I mean it," I snap. "I actually said the words. Out loud and everything."

She's quiet for a minute, and I wonder what she's thinking.

"What brought this on?"

"Well, other than the fact that everything about it was wrong?" I ask, laughing a little.

"There is nothing wrong with a man who can make you come, Bella." She laughs, too. "You know as well as I do that they are few and far between. Like, really far. Fucking New Zealand far."

She's right, but I don't admit it.

"Yeah, well…it doesn't matter. My boss is making us work together on this website launch. And it couldn't continue. I mean, really…someone was eventually going to find out, and I just can't risk that."

"Okay," she says, and I can hear the sarcasm in her voice.

"What?" I ask.

"Do you honestly mean to tell me that you think you can work with him every single day without anything happening? Fuck, you couldn't even stay away from him when you _weren't_ working together. I think you're delusional."

"Yeah? Well, I think you're a bitch."

She laughs. And I laugh, too…for the first real time all day.

"Never said I wasn't."

"I was…clear with him," I tell her seriously. "When he left, he knew it was over. We both did."

I feel a momentary pang of guilt when I think about his expression and the quiet way he left today. But I push it back. I know this is for the best.

"You're a stronger woman than I am," she says.

"Well, I guess it just means that I'm going to have to go back to Jacob," I tell her. "In fact, I think that's what I'm going to do."

"Well, he's never let you down," she laughs.

"Exactly," I say. "I'm definitely spending the rest of the evening with Jacob and a bottle of wine."

"All right, sweets. Call me tomorrow."

I end the call, and begin to collect my things. I think I've spent enough time here for one day…and tomorrow's going to suck.

Fuck.

How the hell am I going to get through tomorrow?

Him being so close. Next to me. All fucking day.

Torture.

It will be absolute torture.

When I stand up, I look over at the door and I see him. He's there, standing just outside my office. His eyes are dark…angry. His hair's a mess like he's been running his fingers through it non-stop. And still…everything about him is so goddamn beautiful.

"Edwa…" I start, but he cuts me off.

"_Who the fuck is Jacob_?"

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**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**See you at 12:30 pm EST**

**You'll probably all flounce me for Rob and Kristen at the London premiere, but I really hope not. **


	7. Chapter 7

"Who the fuck is Jacob?"

Shit.

"Wha-what are you still doing here?" I stammer, trying to ignore the way my body is reacting to him just sharing the same space with me.

"I could ask you the same thing," he says tightly, stepping further into my office. "But I already asked you a question. Now, who the fuck is Jacob?"

I've never seen him quite like this. Well, that's not entirely true. I've seen him intense and serious. But only when we're fucking. And never in a room with light. His cheeks are pink…flushed. And I don't think I've ever noticed just how green his eyes are. They're almost electric. Fuck my life, he's so fucking hot when he's…angry? Is he angry? Why the fuck should he be angry?

"Didn't you ever learn that it's not nice to eavesdrop on conversations?" I ask, my body tensing, as he turns to shut the door. I can't be alone with him. Not right now. Not while I'm feeling the way he makes me feel. "Especially when the conversation has _nothing_ to do with you."

I say it to piss him off. And when he looks back at me, I can see in his eyes that it worked. But there's something else there, too. Something…something I can't put my finger on. Why can't I ever just read him? Why does he always seem to know exactly what I'm thinking when I can't do the same thing?

"Oh, I think it has everything to do with me," he says, stalking toward me. "If you're…seeing someone else, I have a right to know. Especially since just six hours ago, I was fucking inside you." He's standing in front of me…close to me. So close. Too fucking close. "Especially when your panties are still inside my pocket. Now, who the fuck is Jacob?"

The last sentence is nothing more than a whisper, but it feels like a command.

"Nothing," I tell him, practically whimpering. "No one."

"It doesn't sound like no one," he says. "If he were no one, he wouldn't have a name. If he were no one, you wouldn't be having a conversation about him."

"Why do you care?" I ask.

He takes in a slow, deliberate breath. He doesn't move. His body is still a presence that I can feel on every inch of my own. His eyes sear into mine, demanding. And for just a second, I want to give him whatever it is he wants.

"Would _you_ care?" he asks. "Would you care if you heard me making plans with another woman? Would it even bother you, Bella?"

And it would.

I know it fucking would.

It would kill me.

"It doesn't matter if I'd care," I tell him. "You don't belong to me."

My words affect him. I see it on his face. He tries to hide it, but for a moment, it's there. Only I don't know what that means. I don't understand a single thing about him. Why is he acting like this? For a second I think it could be…

But no.

It's not that.

It's never been that.

I've always known where we stand.

"Jacob is…" I start, but stop. I can't say this without dying of embarrassment. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Tell me," he says.

"No," I say, turning around. But he grabs me. It's soft and rough...and everything that he is. But the feeling of him touching me goes straight though every cell of my body. I react viscerally. Like I need him – his touch, his hands – everywhere. "Stop it."

"Tell me."

"Goddamn it," I finally snap. "He's nothing! He's not even a 'he'! He's my…he's a…_rabbit_."

He looks confused for a moment, but I see the moment it all snaps into place in his mind. And I want to fucking die.

"A vibrator?" he asks, a small laugh breaking through his lips. "Wait. No, seriously...wait. You're actually telling me that…my competition is a vibrator?"

He really laughs now, making me blush with embarrassment. Or full-on mortification. And that immediately pisses me off.

"Fuck you," I snap. "At least your _competition_ pulses and spins…and stimulates my clit while it fucks me."

His eyes widen for a second, before softening and focusing in on mine. And I have to fight the urge to touch him. Which is really hard because all I want to do right now is touch him. All over.

"So," he breathes, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "What you're saying is, the only difference between me and…_Jacob_…is that it spins? Because I definitely stimulate your clit while I fuck you, Bella. And we both know how much you like it when I pulse."

His hands reach out for me, grabbing onto my hips and pulling me close. And I fucking let him because when it comes right down to it, I know I'm powerless to stop him. And even more than that – I don't care that I'm powerless. I don't care about anything except the way he makes me feel when he's this close.

I'm weak.

And I hate it.

But I hate the thought of him not touching me like this – not looking at me like this – even more.

"Fuck," I basically cry.

"What?" he asks, reaching up to take my face in his hands. His eyes are open, for a moment he looks as confused as I feel. And for that moment, I allow myself to feel like that's true. "What, Bella?"

"Fuck me."

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**A/N**

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	8. Chapter 8

The words have barely escaped my lips, when his mouth covers mine. And I'm consumed by him – by everything about him. His kiss is hungry. His hands are touching, gripping…everywhere.

I want to have the strength to tell him no, to tell him to stop, but I know I don't. I know that I'm lost to this – whatever this is between us. And I _want_ to be lost. I _want_ to feel this way. I crave this passion, this need, this absolute pull to take everything he has to give me. And the reciprocating push to give him everything I have in return.

His mouth pulls away from mine, his lips trailing hot and wet across my cheek and down to my neck. His breath is hard and panting in my ear, while I hold on to him like I'm afraid that if we stop – if we breathe for just one moment – all of this will go away.

"You want me to fuck you?" he asks, his voice rough in my ear before he sucks on my skin.

All I can do is nod in acceptance.

His teeth bite down, pulling my flesh between them. And I cry out, unsure if it's from the slight pain or the lingering fear that reason will somehow take hold. But I don't want to be reasonable. I don't want anything but the feeling of him inside me, surrounding me.

"Say it," he demands, before pulling back to look in my eyes. His eyes are dark and green with a need that matches mine. And the sheer beauty of him takes my breath away. "I want to hear you say it. And not because you're angry…or because you're overwhelmed and fighting back. I want you to look at me right now and say the fucking words."

And I'm stunned, standing here silent. My mind screaming what he wants me to say, but my voice unable to form the words.

"You sent me away today. You told me that this," he says, grabbing me and pulling me closer, "this was over between us. But it's not, is it, Bella?"

"No," I whisper, shaking my head.

And something softens in his eyes. And not just that – everything about him yields. His body, his touch…his words.

"No," he murmurs. "It isn't…it wasn't. Not even today."

He kisses me again. It's tender and sweet…and a side of him I've never seen or felt before. And it fucking scares me to death. I don't know how to deal with him like this. I don't know what his motives are when he's here…handling me with such care.

"What do you want, Bella?" he asks against my lips.

I'm honest.

"I want you."

There's something freeing about the words, but I'm chained to the panic that being this vulnerable causes.

"How do you want me?" he continues, his hands sliding over the curves of my ass and up along the length of my back. "Do you want me to fuck you hard, Bella?"

"No," I tell him, before I think about the words.

"You don't?" he asks, pulling back, his eyes more intense than before.

And I don't know how to tell him that I want more than that. I want more than him pushing up my skirt, and taking me hard and fast against a wall in a dark space. And the fact that I want more – even to myself – causes my heart to pound in my chest.

"No," he whispers, answering his own question. "You don't. You want it slow, don't you? You want it soft. You want to actually feel me moving over you…inside you. Do you want to be naked with me, Bella?"

"Yes."

"Right here?" he asks. "Right here in your office?"

"So much."

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, Bella," he whispers, his hands making quick work of my blouse and skirt…and finally my bra. "So soft and sweet and slow. Do you want that?"

I can feel my pussy – it's drenched. From him…his words. And I'm standing here naked before him…blushing. He's tasted my come. He's been so fucking deep inside me. But he's never once seen me naked.

Until now.

"Yes."

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, and then smiles. "And I do, too. I want you the same fucking way."

Before I know what's happening, he's lifting me up into his arms…and lowering me to the floor behind my desk. And kneeling between my legs, I watch him as he undresses every inch of his perfect body that up until now has remained a perfect mystery.

His cock is hard and pushing out between us. It's fucking smooth and gorgeous – long and wide. And the tip is shining as it leaks. And fuck me if I don't want to taste it. But I want it – I want him – inside of me more.

He takes my breath away.

He touches me with his fingers – testing me, feeling me. And I'm so fucking ready for him – so fucking soaked with need and desire.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers.

And before I can think about his words that are too much to understand, he's over me, spreading me open and pushing his thick, perfect cock inside. And it doesn't matter that we've done this before, when every time my body burns as it stretches to accept him. Like it's the first fucking time. Like he's the first fucking one.

Slowly, he thrusts.

Over and over again.

And it feels so good – it's never felt better than it feels with him right now.

Deeply kissing.

Tasting.

Sucking.

Gasping.

"So fucking tight and wet, Bella," he rasps. "So fucking perfect…and just…just…fucking made for me. Your pussy was fucking made for me."

And I can't say anything because I'm afraid I know it's true. So, I just continue to cling to him as he fucks me like this…over and over again.

Our eyes are wide open and looking…searching, as he gently takes me over the edge…making me shatter as I come all around him.

And not once – not once in my entire fucking life – has it ever been this way. And I fight against the way it makes me feel when he follows suit, coming inside me, and breathing my name.

Like it's the only fucking name in the world.

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.

.

**A/N**

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	9. Chapter 9

It's quiet as we both lay here, him still inside, his heart still beating against mine.

He's quiet.

His eyes pull from mine, and he looks down at my mouth. And then his cock slips from between my lips, while my body feels the loss of something…that feels far too important. Like I'm somehow empty without him.

And I don't know what that means.

I don't know how I feel.

Not now. Not after everything that just happened.

And all of this feels too awkward and uncomfortable to be happening in this room with lights where I can actually see him. Where I have to actually think about and admit what it is we've done. What we continue to do to each other…over and over again.

I look back to him for some sort of…reassurance. Or acknowledgement even. But he's still not meeting my eyes. And I don't know what to do with that because before – when he was fucking me – his eyes never left mine. We were connected. And it was…well, it felt like more than our bodies. But not now. Now he's still looking at my lips. Almost like he's watching…waiting for me to say something. Only I don't know what to say.

So, I wait.

And I wait.

And still nothing.

And then he sighs. His breath is warm as it blows across my chest, but something about it feels cold. Something about him feels detached. And it makes all of this feel wrong. Or somehow worse than when we were fucking in a closet. Because this felt different. And I'm so goddamn stupid to think that it could have been. Something more. Something real.

_Well, fuck that._

_And fuck him._

I tense underneath him, and I can't even look at him as he rolls off my body. All I can think of is the fact that I need to get my clothes back on. Like, there will be some sort of dignity in having on clothes. Like, somehow it will make it all better. Or at least cover and hide the shame that I'm currently feeling.

I just fucked him. _Again_. After I swore I wouldn't. After I fucking told him I wouldn't. And he's saying nothing. He's giving me nothing. After I felt like he'd just given me so much. And that makes me feel like the weakest, stupidest girl in the world.

Only I'm not a girl anymore. I'm a grown woman. And I need to make better decisions. Smarter fucking decisions.

I move from the floor where he just fucked me to quickly put on my clothes. And I swear, I can almost feel his eyes on me, but I don't dare to allow myself to look back at him. I can't. Not when I feel like this. And definitely not when his continued silence is still like a fucking scream in the room.

My hands shake as I try to button my shirt, and I hear him behind me. He's dressing, too. I mean, I think he is. And still nothing from him. Not a goddamn word. Not even a fucking breath.

What the fuck just happened?

What the fuck is happening now?

Turning, I keep my head down, and I see my purse on the desk. I move on shaking legs, praying I don't trip, and I grab it and head toward the door. I'm there – my hand is on the doorknob – when he finally says my name.

"Bella."

There's something different about his voice. It's sad. Regret, maybe? But I don't care. I can't allow myself to care – at least not until I'm outside in a space big enough for me to breathe.

Away from him…from what we just did.

"No, Edward," I say, hating the sad, stupid way my voice cracks. "Just…just forget it."

.

.

.

**A/N**

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	10. Chapter 10

The room is spinning. Well, okay…maybe not the room. Maybe it's just my head. And I'm probably going to throw up if I move. Goddamn entire bottle of chardonnay. And not the little "regular" bottle. The big fucking bottle that you're supposed to share with three other people. Only, there was no sharing. Unless I was sharing with my own stupidity.

I am so pathetic.

Fuck.

I can't go to work. There's no way I can show my face there today. And not just because I smell like a homeless person, clinging to an empty bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. It's because I can't face _him_. And if I'm being honest with myself, I think I knew that if I got shit-faced drunk last night, I would have to call out of work this morning.

It's not like I'm trying to win "Employee of the Year" or anything.

Reluctantly – either because I'm nervous or because I'm afraid that if I move too quickly the contents of my stomach will empty all over my duvet – I reach to my nightstand and pick up my phone. I dial the number and wait for Jessica to pick up. And then she does.

"Jessica," I croak, wishing I'd cleared my throat before calling. "This is Bella. I'm sick, and I won't be coming in today."

"Jesus, Bella. You sound awful."

"Yeah…umm…I think I got food poisoning," I lie, hoping I sound convincing. "I…I won't be able to make it in today. Could you let Ed-…I mean…Mr. Masen know that I won't be in. He's supposed to work with me today."

"Sure," she says in a tone that's entirely too fucking perky for this early in the morning. "But he's already here and in your office. You could tell him yourself. Oh, no…wait. He's actually walking out here right now."

I immediately panic. I can't talk to him now. I'm pretty sure I'm never going to be able to talk to him again. In fact, I might have to change my name and move to some small town in Idaho where no one knows me or something. There's probably some witness protection program for whores. I should Google that shit.

"No…no, no, no…" I stammer like an idiot. "That's okay. I don't…I can't….I need to…to go to the bathroom."

I need to go to the bathroom?

Goddamn. Could I be a bigger loser?

I try to end the call as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure I hear her saying, "Feel better," as I press the button.

Groaning, I roll back over to my side. I would cry if I weren't so dehydrated. But I think I should probably get used to that. I'm pretty sure there's no water in hell.

No seriously. Fuck my mother fucking life.

It's another two hours before I can drag my ass out of bed. I make it as far as my bathroom before the bottle of wine comes up again. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, not allowing myself to actually look in the mirror, and then I turn on the shower and crawl inside. I brush my teeth while the water sprays down on me. The hot water feels good, but every inch of my skin aches. I wonder how I used to handle this shit when I was younger. I remind myself that when I was younger, I only had hangovers to contend with. That's nothing compared to a hangover combined with humiliation and shame.

When I'm done, I pull on some yoga pants and a tank top and make my way to the couch. My laptop is there, which is good. I should probably spend the rest of the day sending out my resume since there is no possible way I'm going to be able to continue working. Not with him. Not after everything that did and didn't happen last night.

I can't get him off my mind all fucking day. Nothing is a distraction. He's like the pulse in my head that I can't ignore. When I close my eyes, I see him. And it sucks. Because even now –even after everything that went down between us – he's still the most beautiful, the most sexy and amazing man I've ever known. And it hurts, because now I know. Now, I know that he doesn't see me the same way. He couldn't even talk to me last night. Hell, he couldn't even look at me.

My pity party is reaching epic proportions by five, and I'm starting to get hungry. The problem with that is that I have no motivation to move from my couch. My phone pings with a message, and I realize I haven't even talked to Alice today. She probably thinks I'm still working, so I pick up my phone to text her back, only to realize the message is from a number I don't recognize.

I open the message to see four little words.

And they fucking stop my heart.

"**We need to talk."**

_Edward._

I know it's him. What I don't know, is how he got my number. I never gave it to him because he _never_ asked for it. Not once.

I quickly type out my response. I hold my finger over the send button for what feels like forever. And I'm not sure if I actually hit the button, or if my hand is shaking so much that it inadvertently touches it. But it sends…and I die.

"**I don't think we do."**

His response is almost immediate.

"**Fuck that. You're lying."**

And with those words, I'm pissed. Or nervous. Or fucking pissed and nervous.

"**Fuck you. I'm not."**

Seriously. Who the fuck does he think he is?

"**You can either talk to me now or talk to me later. But we are GOING to talk."**

And now, I'm so pissed that I can barely type. But somehow, I manage.

"**You don't fucking own me, Edward Masen. And you don't get to tell me what to do."**

I'm so angry, I could throw my phone. But it was really expensive, and even _I'm_ not that stupid. I feel the slight vibration against my hand and I look down to see another message.

"**We both know you love it when I tell you what to do. But that's not the point. Later it is."**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N**

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	11. Chapter 11

Fuck him.

Fuck him, his perfect face, his arrogant ass…and fuck his beautiful cock.

I am so pissed, I could cry. I'm not going to, but I could.

The thing that gets me about all of this is that I didn't start this – whatever this is between us – with him. He fucking started it. It was him.

I fall back on the couch, close my eyes, and I think about that day over two months ago. Well, I think about that whole week.

.

.

.

_Monday_

"_Edward Masen is looking at you," Angela whispers, as I take a drink of my Diet Coke._

"_So?" I reply, pretending not to care, when all I really want to do is turn around and look at him._

_I've seen him around the office, but we've never really had any interaction other than in meetings. And he's never once given any indication that he's ever even noticed me. Of course, men like him rarely notice women like me. It doesn't bother me. I'm used to it. And besides, I'm proud of the fact that my brain is bigger than my tits._

"_You don't think he's hot?" she asks._

"_I don't know," I say, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. "I don't really think about him at all."_

_And that's the truth. I haven't ever really thought of him in any capacity other than work. I mean, he's absolutely gorgeous, but that's it. I don't dream about him at night or anything._

"_That's probably a good thing," she giggles. "I don't know if I'd be able to stop thinking about him if I started."_

"_Aren't you married, Angela?" I tease her._

"_Yes," she giggles. "And that's why it's a good thing I don't think about him."_

_I laugh, but my mind is elsewhere. Wondering where he is…and if he's still looking. _

_He probably isn't._

"_Well, anyway…" she says, standing up. "I have to get back to work. But just so you know…he's still looking."_

_Tuesday_

_He's not here today._

_And I notice the fact that he's not here._

_It pisses me off._

_Wednesday_

"_You don't have any of the pink grapefruit Izze's?" I ask the barista in Starbucks as I put my egg salad sandwich on the counter._

"_Nope, we're all out," she says. "Will this be all, then?"_

"_I guess so," I say, disappointed as I pay for my purchase._

"_Are you sure you don't have one in the back?" this perfect male voice asks behind me._

_I turn around, and it's him._

_Edward._

_God, he's beautiful._

"_I already told her we didn't," she says, blushing._

_He steps up beside me and smiles. And I'm almost laughing at the way she's looking at him – all blushing and giggling. And then I feel bad for her for a second._

"_Could you check?" he asks, and then smiles down at me._

_She turns around almost immediately. And now I'm pissed because she told me they didn't have anything. And what do you know? Here she comes less than a minute later with my drink._

"_I guess we had one more," she giggles, and I want to punch her in the throat._

_He pays for the drink, and then opens it, putting the lid in his pocket. I watch as he takes a long pull before he reaches it to me._

"_Pink grapefruit," he says smirking. "I like things that are sweet and tart."_

_With that, he turns and walks out._

_And I'm left here standing like a gaping idiot._

_What the fuck just happened?_

_Thursday_

"_Edward is looking at you again," Angela whispers before she stands up._

"_I don't care," I tell her._

_Even though I'm lying._

_Even though I'm dying at the thought that he might be…that he could be._

"_Good for you," she says. "He's probably a player."_

"_Probably," I admit._

_But the moment she walks away, I can't stop myself from looking around to see him. And the moment my eyes meet his across the room, he smiles and then looks down._

_Friday_

_I'm printing a report when I run out of paper._

_Fuck._

_Goddamn supply closet with shelves too high for me to reach the fucking paper._

_I'm inside the closet, reaching up as high as I possibly can. And I'm wearing three inch heels. I'm mean seriously. Who the fuck puts heavy paper up this high? I'm about to step up on the bottom shelf when I hear the door open behind me. And then the lights are off._

"_What the actual fuck?" I hiss, trying to hide my panic as I turn around._

_And even in the dark, I can see that it's him._

"_Shhh," he hushes me. _

"_What are you doing?" I demand._

"_I can't…" he whispers, stepping closer. My whole body tingles from his proximity. And I mean my whole fucking body. "I can't stop thinking about you."_

"_So you decide to follow me into a closet and scare the shit out of me?" I'm whispering now, too. And trying to calm my heart the fuck down. The sad thing is that I'm not sure if it's pounding because he scared me…or because he's so close now that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to._

_Why do I fucking want to?_

"_I followed you in here because I can't stop thinking about you," he says lowly…almost roughly. "And I think," he steps in a little closer. I can smell him. He smells fucking fantastic. "I think that maybe…maybe you've been thinking about me, too."_

"_And what if I have been?" I ask, my voice thicker than it was before._

_His presence – yeah, it's doing something to me._

"_Have you?" he asks. "Have you even thought about me at all?"_

_It's still dark, but my eyes have adjusted, and I can see him. Fuck, he's gorgeous. _

"_Yes," I whisper._

"_Fuck," he almost groans. _

_And something about that word coming from his mouth, in this small space… Well, it kills me a little. Or a lot._

_He's close. He's so fucking close._

"_I want to kiss you," he says, leaning in, his hands finding purchase on the shelf behind me. "Do you want that, Bella?"_

_And before I know what I'm doing – before I can actually think about what's happening – I hear myself responding to his question._

"_Yes."_

_And then it's done. His mouth is over mine; his tongue is in my mouth…and he's kissing me. And even more than that, I'm kissing him back. Hard and soft…sucking and wet._

"_You're so fucking sweet," he whispers, pulling back and licking a trail down to my neck. "I knew you would be so fucking sweet."_

"_What…what…what…" I pant, trying to find words. "What are we doing?"_

_He pulls back to look at me, his hand on my face. I can see his chest rising and falling. I can almost hear the pounding of his heart. Or maybe that's mine. I can't bring myself to care either way._

"_What do you want to do, Bella?" he asks. _

"_Anything you want."_

_The moment I say it, I know it's the absolute truth. _

"_What if I told you I wanted to fuck you?" he asks. He comes back to my mouth and sucks on my bottom lip, before biting down harder than I expect him to. I whimper, but he sucks that in, too. Then he kisses and licks me again, making me forget that just a moment ago, I was hurting. "What if I told you that I want to feel you come on my cock?"_

_I look at him…and he's serious._

_He's absolutely dead fucking serious._

_And in that moment, I know. _

_I want the same thing._

"_I said anything you want."_

.

.

.

When I open my eyes, I realize my hands are in my panties. I'm rubbing my clit, and about to get off on just his memory. Just the thoughts of what he does to me.

And then there's a knock on my door.

Loud.

Persistent.

"Bella…it's Edward. I told you we needed to talk."

.

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.

**A/N**

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	12. Chapter 12

"I know you're in there," he says so loudly I can hear it through the door. "You're not going to ignore me anymore. You…you can't ignore…_this_ anymore."

I'm off the couch and standing by the door. He's just on the other side, and I swear to god, I can feel him through the wood.

"Go away, Edward," I say. "I'm not going to let you in."

And I mean it. I'm not letting him. I'm not ready to face him. And besides that, I literally look like shit right now. Nothing could be more mortifying. Well, other than fucking someone in your office and having them ignore you after, not fucking speak to you…or even look you in the eye.

And just like that, my anger is back in full force.

"You will let me in," he says. "I will stand out here all night if I have to. I'll fucking pound on your door until you open it. Now open the door, Bella. _Please_."

It's the "please" that gets me. His voice sounds almost anguished. But I don't understand why.

"Why do you want to talk to me now?" I ask. "Why now?" _When you wouldn't talk last night?_

"Please…just…." he says, and I'm looking at the doorknob like it might burn me if I touch it. "Open the goddamn door, Bella. I deserve to talk to you face to face."

He knocks on the door again. This time harder than before.

"No," I tell him, pounding back. "No you fucking don't."

It doesn't escape me that my neighbors probably think this is some sort of Jerry Springer nightmare. And while I'm still fucking livid and humiliated, I can't have someone call the cops. Then I'll be jobless and homeless. This just gets more and more awesome by the moment.

"You owe me this," he says. "Fuck, Bella…please."

And before he's even finished his sentence, I'm opening the door.

"Yeah, well," I tell him. "Sometimes we don't get what we're owed."

His eyes are wide and soft, but there's still lingering anger there, too. Heat.

"And I don't owe you anything," I spit. "Now, say what you came to say…and get out."

"Why weren't you at work today?" he asks, his eyes holding mine.

He doesn't make an attempt to move closer. And I'm grateful for that one small thing. I don't think I can physically handle being any nearer to him than I am right now.

"I was sick."

It's all I offer, and I'm happy it's not a lie.

"You were really sick?" he asks. The concern in his voice sounds genuine, but I don't believe it. I can't believe anything he says. "Are you okay?"

"Well, yeah," I tell him. "I was…sick. And I'm fine…so, you don't have to worry about me. And how the fuck do you know where I live?"

I had almost forgotten that minor detail. It's like he's some sort of stalker. And why doesn't that scare me as much as it should?

"And my phone number?" I continue. "How did you get that?"

His face falls, and for a moment he looks ashamed.

"I…ummm…well," he stammers. "I sort of…well, I sort of _borrowed_ your file from HR."

And just when I think I can't possibly be any angrier, I fucking am.

"What do you mean by you '_borrowed_' my file?" I ask, my voice barely controlled.

"Well, there's a woman…Lauren," he says. "I sort of…I asked her for your information. I told her I needed to speak with you about something…important."

And I know the woman he's thinking about. Fucking whore. But honestly, who the fuck am I kidding? If she's the pot, I'm definitely the kettle.

"I'm sure you were very persuasive," I tell him. "Did you fuck her in a closet, too? I mean…I know how hard it is to say no to you."

His eyes widen – they're like fucking saucers. And for a second, I'm happy to have caught him off guard, even if it feels like what I said was wrong on so many levels.

"How could you…" he says. "I mean, no. Of course I didn't. How…I mean, what…I mean, how could you think that?"

And this is the most flustered I've ever seen him. The most uncontrolled and insecure. But then I remember that there's nothing about him that's uncontrolled and insecure.

"I don't know what you want me to think," I tell him. "I don't know what you expect me to feel right now. What do you want to say to me? I mean, it seems to me that if you had something to say, you would have…I mean you _should_ have said it last night. Why now? Why not yesterday? Or the day before? Or all the other days before?"

"Bella…" he says my name softly. It makes my heart ache. It makes me realize that I'm in deeper than I let myself believe. That I wanted more – _needed more_ – from him that I've been willing to admit.

"No," I tell him. "You just let me leave last night. You just…you just…_fuck_! You just let me walk away without a word. You fucked me again because that's what you wanted…and you said nothing after. _Nothing, Edward_! Not a goddamn word. You couldn't even _look_ at me! So, you tell me…why the fuck are you here now?"

He crosses the space between us so quickly I don't have time to understand what's happening. And then his hands are on me. His mouth is on me – kissing me everywhere. My face, my neck, my shoulders and chest.

I try to push him away, but I'm powerless to stop him. Not because I'm not strong enough…but because I know I don't want to. And he pulls back to look at me, his green eyes on fire, his face flushed and determined.

"I'm here, Bella," he tells me. "I'm here because I can't stay away."

.

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.

**A/N**

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	13. Chapter 13

"_I'm here, Bella," he tells me. "I'm here because I can't stay away."_

.

.

.

"Then don't," I say.

He whimpers, and then it turns into a groan. It's loud – pain and relief all mixed in together. It makes me tremble. _He_ fucking makes me tremble.

And I hate that I've told him not to stay away. I hate even more the way it made me feel when he said those words – that he _couldn't_. But none of that matters when he kisses me again. Not a single goddamn thing matters, other than the way his lips feel moving against mine. The way his tongue feels as he opens me up to him. The way he tastes and smells – like everything I've ever wanted, but was too afraid to ask for. But it feels like _he's _asking…like he's taking. And he's here.

All around me.

Inside me.

Fucking everywhere.

His hands wrap around my waist as he pulls me closer. I go to him; I wrap myself around him, too. I clutch his shoulders, my face pulling away from his, and pressing into his neck. I don't know what's going to happen after this – what I'll do when he walks away again – but I'll have to deal with that then. Right now he's here with me. And right now it's enough.

"I think about you all the time," he whispers. "Fucking constantly. I think about the way you feel under my hands." He squeezes my ass as he says the words. I can feel his erection pressing against my belly. And even after everything, I want his cock lower. With nothing between us. Pushing into me. Fucking me. "I think about the way you make me smile even when you don't know that you are…your smart fucking mouth. I think about the way you are constantly challenging me…pissing me off. You're so goddamn frustrating, Bella. And I fucking need you all the time."

His words are too much, and my head is spinning with them. Because he doesn't mean them. He can't mean them. If he meant them, he would have told me sooner. He would have told me last night.

But he didn't.

And then I remember that nothing has really changed. This is just the same thing as always. His body's too close. His words that he uses to suck me in and make me forget everything but him. Including myself. Because when I'm with him, the only thing that matters is him…and the way he makes me feel.

I pull away because I have to. Not that it matters, he already knows how weak I am. How hopelessly addicted. But I have to ask…I have to fucking know.

"Why now?" I ask. "Why now…and not last night, Edward?"

He looks at me, his hands still reaching out to me.

"Bella…" he says. And then nothing else.

"No," I continue. "Why now? Why not when I was with you? Why not when I was still naked underneath you? When you were still fucking inside me? Where were these words then? Where were they when you watched me walk away last night? When I was fucking dying because you couldn't…no, you _didn't _say anything?"

"You think I didn't want to say something?" he asks, his voice loud and so much harsher than before.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have missed what you wanted to say. I was too busy putting my clothes back on in the silence."

I turn around because I can't fucking look at him. It's too hard. He's too fucking beautiful, and I want him too much. But then I feel his hand on my arm, gripping me softly, but hard enough to stop me and turn me back around.

"I know I should have said something," he says. "I couldn't think about anything except what I _should_ have said all night. And then I came to work this morning. I was going to talk to you then…but you didn't come."

"What would you have said?" I ask quietly, all of my anger seeping out of me with the words. "If I had come in this morning, what would you have said to me?"

His whole expression is soft…contrite. And I don't have the desire to move when he reaches out to touch my face. I want him to touch me. Still. His eyes are wide, his lips parted…and then he speaks.

"I would have told you I'm sorry," he says. "I would have told you that I was a fucking idiot."

"You are a fucking idiot," I tell him.

He swallows loudly. I see the bobbing of his Adam's apple. And I'm so furious right now, because all I can think about is the fact that I want to lick him. Right. Fucking. There.

"You're right," he says, pulling my eyes back up to meet his. "I am a fucking idiot. But I haven't been the only one not saying anything. You were fucking quiet, too. Even last night. After we ma-…after we were together. You didn't say anything either. I wasn't there alone."

My first instinct is to tell him that what he's saying is bullshit. To tell him that I was just waiting for him to say something…anything. To just give me some sort of indication that he wanted more from me than just a quick fuck. But he never did.

And he's not even saying that now.

So, I just stand here, looking at him…furious that I still fucking want him as much as I do.

"Tell me it's not the same for you," he says, grabbing me and pulling me flush against him. "Tell me it hasn't been the same for you since the very beginning. You don't even have to tell me. I know. I can feel it when you're close me like this. I know how you feel, Bella. What you want…and what you need. And I can give it to you. You know I can. And as much I fucking want you, I know you want me the same way."

His hand reaches between us. It slides over my breast, his palm against my now-hard nipple. And I have to bite my lip to keep from whimpering. But he knows. He knows everything. Then, his hand is over my belly. Rubbing me…feeling me. I let him because I have to – because I never want him to stop. And his eyes are piercing as they search mine. So fucking vivid and green, that I get lost in them. The same way I get lost in him.

"You don't have to say anything, Bella," he whispers roughly, his hand reaching lower…between my legs. "I know. I know how you feel. I know how wet I make you. I know that no one has ever responded to me the way that you do. And you're lying if you tell me that someone else can make you feel this way."

He grips my pussy, cupping me. I'm embarrassingly wet, and I know that he can feel it. His finger strokes me…up and down and so fucking perfect that I can't breathe. And then he presses harder. I can feel the fabric of my pants and panties as they slip between my lips…and he doesn't stop rubbing me. And I wonder how torture can feel so amazing.

"It feels good," he continues. "You feel so fucking good. I want to taste…I want to feel you against my tongue…in my mouth. All over my face, Bella. I love to fucking lick and suck you until you come. Do you know why?"

And I can't focus – can't think. Not about anything but the way he's making me feel with his touch and his words.

"Do you?" he demands, pulling me even closer, his fingers pressing harder.

I know I'm about to come.

I'm almost there.

"No," I cry.

"Because when you come, your little sounds…the way you quietly cry my name…I fucking know in those moments that I own you. It feels like you're mine."

He kisses me hard, his lips punishing, his teeth biting. And I give into him. I can't help it. This whole time, I thought I was so slick…so distant. _But he fucking knew_. All along, he knew. And then I cry out, as he presses firmly against my clit, making me shatter and come around his hand.

"Fuck ," he hisses. "You're mine, Bella. Tell me you're mine."

.

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.

**A/N**

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	14. Chapter 14

I'm still clinging to him, my legs and body still weak from the intensity of my orgasm. I'm pretty sure he's holding me up because I'm not falling, but all I can think about is the way he's just made me feel.

Until I hear his voice again.

"Tell me, Bella," he says. "Say the fucking words."

And looking in his eyes full of hunger and expectation, I know.

And I've known all along.

"I'm yours," I whisper.

It only takes a moment – just a second – for my words to register. But when they do, he smiles.

"Yeah, you are," he says, leaning in to kiss me. It's softer this time, but just as urgent. His mouth is hot and wet…and I can't get enough. I can't get close enough. "Where's your bed?"

"Wha-what…why?" I stammer.

I'm still unfocused and spinning, but even though he's holding me and kissing me, somewhere it registers that there's still so much left unresolved. I look up at him through clouded eyes, and the magnitude of his expression stills and centers me.

"I'm going to make…to take you in a bed," he tells me. "Somewhere I can fuck you properly. Somewhere I can hold you and kiss you and lick you until I'm the only thing – _the only one_ – you can think of. And somewhere we don't have to be afraid of getting caught…because I'm going to be with you all night. Now, where's your fucking bed?"

I barely even nod to the door across the room, before I'm lifted and in his arms. He wastes no time in getting us there. And the moment we're inside, he places me on the edge of my bed. It's still unmade from this morning, but I don't care about that. I only care about him – standing before me here in my room.

The light from the living room spills in, covering the dark room in a soft, warm glow. And I look at him – breathless and wanting – as he begins to undress. With each and every piece of his clothing that falls away, I find that I never really knew just how perfect his body was. Not even last night when we were naked together.

His cock is so hard, it looks painful. So close, I could reach out and touch it. Kiss it.

I want to.

"Do you think about me in here?" he whispers, leaning over to pull off my pants and panties. They slide down easily and instinctively, I spread my legs. For him. He steps inside them. "Do you lie in your bed at night and think about the things we do? Do you touch yourself, Bella? Do you touch yourself and think about me while you make yourself come?"

And I blush as I listen to his questions, because the truth is I do. I have. Ever since the first day we were together. Fuck, I was touching myself tonight before he showed up.

"Yes," I whisper, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "I have…I do."

"Do you know what that does to me?" he says.

Pressing in, I lay my head on his stomach. I love the feeling of him shuddering as my cheek brushes his skin. And then I'm aware of his cock. It's right there, so close to me…my mouth.

"I know what it does to me."

My hands reach around, and grabbing his ass, I pull him closer. I can smell him – his cock. He smells like sex. Like the best fucking sex in the world. I want to taste him. I want to make him come the same way he made me come in the living room.

I lower my head, and taking my tongue, I lick my lips, and then I lick his cock from base to tip. It jumps…he groans. It's the sexiest fucking sound in the world.

"Fuuuck," he grunts.

I pull back, taking him in my hand, and looking up at him expectantly. I feel this power – this need to be in control just once because he's always the one who controls me. My body.

"Good?" I ask, squeezing him gently.

His cock is long and thick and fucking beautiful. It's heavy in my hand and his taste is still on my tongue.

"So good, Bella," he says. "So fucking good."

His body is wound tight. His muscles flinching in the muted light.

"More?" I ask.

"Yes." It's barely a whisper.

My other hand reaches underneath him, cupping his balls before my finger trails the underside of his cock.

"Tell me what you want," I say. "Use _your_ words."

"I want you to suck me."

"I want to suck you, too."

And I do.

His hands are in my hair as I take him in. Sucking…licking…tasting. And he tastes so good. He's so fucking good. His voice his hot and dirty in my ear as he leans down to whisper to me.

"Your mouth is so hot and wet, baby," he says. "Uuunnh…so fucking…god, so fucking perfect. Do you feel how hard you make me? Do you like the way I taste? It's the same for me. It's the same for me when I lick you, Bella. When I eat your perfect pussy."

I grip his ass with both my hands, squeezing hard and pulling his cheeks apart, even as I pull him closer to me. I'm lost in his words…his voice…in what I'm doing to him. I need to own him the same way he knows he owns me.

He's thrusting now. It's slow and steady, but I'm overwhelmed and completely turned on by the fact that he is, quite literally, fucking my mouth. But as much as I love it – I want him to fuck _me_ more.

"Oh…oh, god, Bella…" he cries. "Goddamn…I'm gonna…fuck…you're going to make me…"

He stills my head with his hands, and as much as I don't want to stop, I do. Because I want to fuck him more.

And then he is on me, pushing me back on the bed. He covers me with his body and his mouth, kissing me deeply, sucking my tongue…groaning and panting until all I can hear and feel and taste is him. Everywhere.

"I want this to be softer," he pants in my ear. "Sweeter…but I can't, Bella. I need you."

His hands slide under my tank top, gripping the bottom and pushing it up just enough to uncover my bare breasts. And I cry out as he takes one in his mouth, sucking hard. His eyes pull back, scared that he's hurt me. But he hasn't. And when he goes back to my breast this time, it's gentle…reverent. So different than he's been with me before.

Sucking.

Licking.

Kissing.

"It smells like you," he murmurs against my skin. "This bed…this room…it's fucking you. Everywhere…all around me. I never want to leave."

And because I'm stupid and caught up in everything he says…everything he is, I whisper, "Don't then."

"Tell me you want me, Bella," he whispers again. "Tell me again. I need to hear. I'll never stop needing to hear it."

"I want you," I choke out, my emotions leaking out of me. "I've always wanted you just like this."

"You have me…from the first fucking moment," he says, as my heart pounds. "Before the closet…before we ever talked. It's been you. I couldn't…I can't…I'll _never_ get you out of my mind."

"Why?" I whisper, my voice breaking. "Why didn't…you _never_ said anything."

He pushes up and back, settling between my legs with his head on my thigh. Spreading me open wider, he begins to slowly stroke my pussy. Up and down…covering his fingers with my arousal until he wet enough to push inside.

"I was afraid that I'd ruined it," he says, talking to me while he continues to touch me. "I was afraid that because…because of the way that I took you. You know...the first time. I was afraid that you would think that I only wanted sex. And I mean…I _wanted_ the sex. I want you all the fucking time. And I guess…I guess I was just willing to take and give whatever you would allow."

"I would have given you anything," I admit. "Would have taken anything you offered."

His thumb circles my clit, and I jump at the sensation. He smiles softly.

"And what about now?" he asks, as he begins to slowly fuck me with two fingers.

I can't breathe…can't think. Not while he's touching me like this. Not when all I can feel is him – his fingers inside me. But his words are important. _He_ is too fucking important to get lost in this. Even if _this_ is him.

"What are you offering me now?" I ask, breathless…waiting.

"Me, Bella," he says, pressing in so fucking deep his hand is pressed against my opening. "Everything."

And then his mouth covers the top of my sex. Licking my clit…sucking my pussy while his fingers fuck me harder…faster.

"You taste so good," he groans against my skin. "All hot and wet and perfect girl. I could lick you forever. Just to make you come on my tongue. Do you want that?"

He delves in again, and I cry out, "Everything, Edward. I want you…I want _everything_."

I explode in his mouth, my mind blank…my lungs breathless. I don't know if he heard me, but I know without question that everything I have belongs to him.

And I need him to want everything, too.

He stills for just a moment, but then he's over me… inside me.

Thrusting.

Pushing.

Fucking taking me again and again. Until all I see is him, all I taste is him…all I feel is him.

Over me.

Around me.

Inside me.

"I want you, too, Bella…" he grunts as he fucks me. "I've always fucking wanted you. I'll always fucking want you."

He thrusts again.

Deeper this time.

"Just."

_Thrust._

"Like."

_Thrust._

"This."

.

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.

**A/N**

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	15. Chapter 15

I ache. All over. And I'm pretty sure everyone is staring at me today. Well, I only passed two people on my way into the office, the security guard and the sad receptionist who always has a box of Krispy Kremes on her desk, but I think they could tell what I'd been doing all night.

Edward left this morning. Early. Really fucking early. He needed to go home to change and get ready for work. I didn't want him to leave. Fuck, I wanted to stay with him in bed all day. But he was right. I needed to come to work today. We both did. So, he kissed me goodbye. He also kissed my pussy goodbye – it was only fair. His mouth woke us both up at four. Not that either of us complained.

And so, here I am.

Waiting.

Nervous.

I don't what I'll do when I see him.

I pick up the file on my desk – the one I put together for Edward. My hands are shaking, and I drop it. Paper flies everywhere, and cursing, I bend over to pick everything up. And then I feel it – his hand on my ass. Rubbing…grabbing.

"Fuck, you look good bent over," he murmurs.

I jump back, terrified that someone will see him. The door to my office is wide open. But even though I'm nervous, I can't help but be drawn back to him. His wide eyes, his fucking cocky expression.

"Edward," I hiss. "Someone…anyone could see you."

He looks contrite for just a moment, but it passes. Quickly. And then, a smile spreads across his face as he looks at me. He's not sorry – not one fucking bit. I force myself not to smile.

"How are you?" he whispers. His eyes dilating, as he steps in closer. "How are you feeling?"

The question is innocent enough, but the tone suggests something completely different.

"I'm sore," I tell him, clenching a little, but loving the way it aches. Then, my voice lowers to barely a whisper. "My _pussy_ is so sore."

_Think about that, Edward._

I'm feeling quite smug until he leans in. His fragrance surrounds me. God, I want to lick him.

"Your pussy is delicious," he says…and I fucking die.

I know now that there's no possible way we can ever work together. We'll never get anything done. I can't even be around him without wanting to mount him like a motorcycle. And seriously…no one needs to see that. Obviously, because I'm spectacularly clumsy.

I mean, it was okay when we were just co-workers. And he wasn't right here…in my office…all fucking day. And by okay, I mean we only fucked in a closet occasionally. But things are different now. After last night, _we_ are different.

"This isn't going to work," I blurt out.

His whole body tenses, and he looks at me like I just kicked his puppy.

"I mean the working thing, Edward," I continue, trying to soothe him. "I don't think…no, I _know_ that I won't be able to work with you like this. So close. When all I want to do…"

Jessica chooses this exact moment to walk in. And I've never been so happy that Edward's hand isn't on my ass.

"Good morning, Bella," she says, once again, altogether too perky. "Are you feeling better?"

"Ummm…yeah," I tell her. "I'm…yeah…I'll be fine."

She turns to leave, and as soon as she's gone, Edward's quiet chuckling turns into a ridiculously loud laugh.

"What?" I hiss.

"Nothing," he smirks. "It's just good to know."

"What's good to know?" I demand, fuming, and wondering how I can go from wanting to lick him all over to wanting to kick him in the balls. Although, his balls are kinda spectacular.

"That you're not a good liar," he says. His hand reaches out, and his thumb strokes my elbow. "You're so easy to read."

"You didn't think I was easy to read before," I remind him.

His eyes grow dark…but he smiles. He steps in closer, and as much as I know it's wrong for me to want him to, I can't bring myself to stop. I want him close to me. Touching me.

"I could read parts of you perfectly," he whispers. "There are some things…some _reactions_ you just can't lie about."

I feel myself flush at his words. Heat covers my body. And fuck…if he wanted to fuck me right now, I'd probably let him. Jesus. I'd probably beg him.

"This is what I'm talking about," I say, shaking my head, trying to clear it. "I can't do this with you. Not here…not at work. It's too hard, Edward."

He smirks.

"It's…I'm always hard for you."

And now I'm wet. And pissed.

"I'm serious, Edward," I tell him, pulling away. I'm embarrassed now – because he's not listening, and because he doesn't seem to understand what I'm talking about. Or if he does, he doesn't seem to care. "I want you all the time. And being here with you…_like this_…it's too much. My job is important to me. No matter how much the evidence points to the contrary."

"I'm sorry, Bella," he says softly. He grabs my hand, and I let him. I want him to touch me, even if I am staring at the door every three seconds to make sure no one is watching. "I'm teasing you, baby. It's just…well, I fucking love to hear you say that. And even more…to know you really feel this way. About me. After last night… Fuck, last night was the most amazing night of my life."

"Mine, too," I whisper, interrupting him. But wanting him to know that it was the same for me.

"Yeah?" he asks, linking his fingers with mine.

"So much yeah," I tell him, unable to stop my smile.

His eyes dart to my mouth. I wonder if he's going to kiss me. And the truth is, I don't think I could stop him if I wanted to. Not that I would ever want to stop him.

"I know what you mean, though," he says, his voice more serious than before. "I thought about it last night after you went to sleep. And this morning when I left."

"What are you going to do?" I ask. "What do you think we should do?"

He smiles, and it's beautiful.

Perfect.

"Do you trust me?"

Maybe.

"Yes."

"Good," he grins, then squeezes my hand once more. "I have a plan."

.

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.

**A/N**

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**See you at 9:00 pm EST**


	16. Chapter 16

"Bella," Carlisle nods as I walk into his office. It's hard to believe I was just here in this same situation only two days ago. It feels like so much more time has passed. "Have a seat."

Nervously, I clutch the file I'm holding in my hand, and I sit down. Fuck, I'm still sore. And even though I'm a nervous wreck, I can't help but smile as I think about why. Squeezing my legs together gently, I try to compose myself.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. "I heard you were sick yesterday."

"Ummm…yeah," I begin. "I'm sorry about that – about calling out. I was…well, I think I had food poisoning."

He looks at me speculatively. All I can think about is what Edward said about being able to read me, and I wonder if he knows I'm lying. I get the distinct impression that he does, but he doesn't seem upset.

Just as I'm about to speak, there's a soft knock at the door.

"Edward." Carlisle smiles. "Come in. Bella just got here."

"Thank you, sir."

Edward sits down in the chair next to me, and I have to force myself not to look at him. Which is basically impossible. You know, because he's gorgeous…and he fucked me senseless last night. Oh, and he told me he wants to be with me. Out of the closet or whatever.

So, I look at him. And when I do, he looks down. Fucking smiling, and maybe even blushing a little. And I die…again. Because this is a side of Edward I've never really seen.

And I love it.

"Edward, what's on your mind?" Carlisle asks. "I can't imagine what's so important, that you needed to meet with me," he looks at me, his expression still unreadable, "and Bella today."

Clearing his throat, Edward begins. "Carlisle. I need to…well, _we_," he looks at me, "we need to speak with you…about something."

I look at him, panicked, my eyes wide, and completely unable to breathe.

_What the fuck is he doing?_

_No, really. What the _actual_ fuck does he think he's doing?_

I look over at him, begging him with my eyes – pleading with him – to not do what I think he's about to do. This is it. He is going to ruin my career right now. And there's nothing I can do to stop him. He just smiles at me. And while that should serve to comfort me, it only pisses me off. Because honestly, who the fuck does he think he is to just…to just _do_ this? Without talking to me first. Without even asking me.

Ignoring me completely, he looks back to Carlisle.

"Bella and I can't continue working together," he says.

And even though I just said the same thing to him this morning, his words sound foreign and unfamiliar. Like this is a dream…or a fucking nightmare.

"I know that the two of you are…highly independent," Carlisle says. "But I really need you both to be team players here. You're going to have to work through whatever…_issues_…" he says, almost knowingly, "that you have…and be productive. Together."

"Together," Edward repeats. "Yeah…see? That's kind of the issue."

"And what's that?" Carlisle asks.

"Ummm…well…" Edward stammers, and I can't even look up. I'm looking at my lap like it's the most interesting goddamn thing in the world. Even Edward would blush at the words I'm screaming in my mind. And he has a dirty fucking mouth. "We've sort of been…"

_Oh, god._

_Oh, my fucking god._

I want to die. I may very well die right here in this chair. Cause of death – absolute mortification.

"Sort of been…what?" Carlisle asks. "Spit it out, Edward. If there's a viable reason for your inability to work together, I'd like to know what that is."

I look over to Edward. I don't want to, mind you. I want to stab him in the eye with the pen I'm holding. But I'm hoping that there's some way to salvage this train wreck – this colossal fucking disaster – he's getting ready to bring about.

He looks at Carlisle.

Then back to me.

Then back to Carlisle.

I'm certain I'm not breathing. But that's the only thing I'm certain of in this moment.

"I'm in love with Bella," he blurts out.

Only, apparently, I do still have breath. Because all of it fucking leaks out of me when I whisper, "What?"

"Shit," he exclaims, looking at me. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. Here. In front of him," he says, looking over at Carlisle. "But it's true. It's true, Bella. I love you. I've loved you since the first day in the closet. Hell, I think I loved you before that."

"_This_?" I hiss. "This is your plan? Are you _crazy_?"

He's smiling, and for the life of me, I can't imagine why.

"I just told you I love you, Bella," he says.

"You also just told our boss that you fucked me in a closet!"

His eyes widen, as my hands shoot up and cover my mouth.

This isn't happening.

This can't be happening.

"No," he says, still smiling. Fucking grinning. Whatever. "_You_ just told our boss that we fucked in a closet. _I_ told you that I love you. I love you, Bella. I'm in love with you."

I can't process any of this. It's too surreal. It's so surreal, I'm certain that I'm going to wake up at any moment.

The sound of laughter fills the room. Only it's not mine. It's not Edward's, either. I look up, and Carlisle is laughing. Seriously. He's laughing his ass off. Only none of this is funny. This is mortifying. And also further proof that this has to be a dream.

"It's about time," Carlisle states matter-of-factly. "I was beginning to think you'd never come clean. And I was worried I was going to have to fire you. _Both of you_. And then I would never have heard the end of it from your Aunt Esme."

_Wait._

_What?_

_No, really…what?_

"You knew?" Edward asks. "You knew about us?"

"Of course I knew, Edward," he says dismissively. Still laughing. "And Bella…"

He looks at me expectantly. I try to meet his eyes. When I finally do, they're smiling just like him.

"Yes, sir?" I say meekly.

"It never takes thirty minutes to get paper and staples," he says, standing up. "Just for…you know…future reference and whatnot."

If I thought I wasn't too sore, I would crawl under the desk right now. And vomit in the trashcan. Repeatedly.

He walks around the desk, and looks at Edward – at least I think he does. I'm pretty busy trying to think of ways to kill myself with this ink pen.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Edward," he says. "You're right. You can't continue to work alongside her. I'll reassign someone else to work with her starting tomorrow. Now, I'm just going to give you both a few minutes."

And with that, he walks out of his office. I'm pretty sure I can still hear him laughing down the hall.

I sit here, fuming. I know if I speak, I'm likely to scream.

I do it anyway.

"He's your uncle?" I shriek. "_Your uncle_?"

"Is that the part you're focused on?" he asks. "Really, Bella?"

He reaches out to take my hands, but I jerk mine back.

"What part _should_ I be focused on, Edward?"

Ignoring me, he stands up, reaching out and pulling me up with him. I don't look at him – I can't. But I'm still so horrified all I can do is bury my face in his chest.

"You could…" he whispers, "I don't know. You could focus on the fact that I told you I love you."

He wraps his arms around me, and I let him. And somewhere inside his arms, his words start to sink in. Like, really sink in.

_He loves me?_

"You…you really love me?" I murmur against his chest.

"Fuck yeah, I do," he says, forcing my chin up with his hand, and making me look him in the eye.

He lowers his head to kiss me. I let him. It's sweet and soft, but it starts to build. And I still feel like I'm dreaming. But this dream is _so_ much better. _This_ dream is fucking perfect.

"And what about you?" he asks, pulling back.

I smile, too happy to contain everything I'm feeling inside.

"I…I…" I stammer. "I think you're really neat."

I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. It's impossible. But he laughs along with me…and I fucking know. It's the same for me. Maybe since the closet…maybe before. But none of that matters when we're both standing here right now…feeling the same thing.

"You love me," he says softly.

"I love your cock."

He growls.

I grin.

"Yeah?" he asks. "Well my cock loves you, too."

He pulls me even closer.

"You love me," he repeats.

.

.

.

"Fuck yeah, I do."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for the wonderful response to this little fic today. I had a great time writing it. And it makes me so happy to know that you all enjoyed reading it.**

**Marvar is the love of my life. Seriously. If she jumped off a cliff, I would totally go to Italy and ask some creepy, crazy family to kill me. Of course, she would totally have to come save me because at the end of the day, out of the two of us, she is the most capable and amazing one. She takes time out of her own personal life to edit for me. A lot. And I am truly grateful to call her my friend and soulmate.**

**I have the most AMAZING pre-readers ever! Like EVER! They make doing this fun. And their feedback always makes me happy and excited to write the next chapter. Jaimearkin, Kourt17, Laura_1025 and Raina…I totally want to make out with all of you in a meadow of lilac flowers. And talk about how you're my heroin and shit. (That sounds like it would be a good scene in a book. J/S) Thank you for being wonderful.**

**See you all when I decide to write something else. You know, whatever floats through my pervtastic brain. As always, I love each and every reader. Thanks for the reviews, the comments and the tweets. You guys are the reason I do this. You make it fun.**

**xoxo,**

**cosmo**


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